Seasons of War 2-Book Bundle. Cheryl Cooper

a child, I would climb anything that stood before me: a fence, a tree, a balustrade, a barn roof, even though – in doing so – I caused my poor nurses such alarm.”

      “I am certain you must have,” said Leander. “But I suppose … there is something in you that does not leave me in complete surprise by this knowledge.”

      “If anything, my father encouraged this kind of behaviour,” Emily went on, a wistful smile on her lips. “He was proud of my climbing feats … most likely because I was his only child, and he had wished – as all men do – for a son.”

      “A son that would enter the Royal Navy rather than … than taking up farming?”

      Emily avoided Leander’s inquisitive glance. “Do not worry yourself, Doctor, I shall not encourage a competition to the topgallant.”

      “If you did, I would have to decline. I’m afraid I am a physician, not a sailor.”

      “Perhaps not a sailor, but there must be some of the adventurer in you?”

      Leander paused to consider that one. “I believe there is more of the adventurer in you than in me.”

      She smiled, and a faraway look crept into her eyes.

      “Now if you were to run up the main topgallant this minute,” he continued, “you might shock the sensibilities out of a few men. I understand many of them hate being up there themselves.”

      “But wouldn’t it be great fun, Doctor? Captain Moreland and Mr. Lindsay would be quick to consult their Articles of War to decide just how they could punish me. Should they withhold my grog rations? Give me a cobbing or a flogging? Seize me up to the shrouds for a night or have me court-martialled?”

      “Perhaps they could give you all five punishments!”

      They both laughed, then fell silent, listening to the men on their watch, shouting at intervals to one another above the howling tempest.

      “Heave the lead, if you please.”

      “Winds from the northeast.”

      “Compass reading.”

      “No sounding yet, sir.”

      “What is our speed?”

      “We’re scudding at a rate of seven knots.”

      Leander was the first to speak again. “There is a hood to the coat. It might help to keep you dry. I wouldn’t want you to catch a chill.”

      “Thank you, Doctor, but I welcome the rain. It is so hot and smelly below deck. I wonder that you can work in such conditions.”

      “I have done it such a long time now, I hardly notice. Then again, the quality of the air is not a priority when a man is dying on the table before you.”

      Emily turned to look at him and smoothed back her hair. “Why are you a ship’s physician? You are not like other navy surgeons and physicians that I have known or heard about.”

      Leander frowned at her question. “How is that?”

      “You’re clever and well-educated and don’t seem to have a problem with drunkenness.”

      “I thank you for the compliment, but I must confess to enjoying spirits upon occasion.”

      “When you are lopping off limbs?”

      “No, never upon those occasions.”

      “That’s what sets you apart.” She continued to look at him, making him uncomfortable. “So … why are you on a ship, Doctor?”

      For the longest time he did not reply and Emily wondered if he would prefer to follow her example and evade her question. She was about to apologize for her impertinent curiosity when he opened his lips in answer.

      “I left England eight years ago, when my old friend Fly encouraged me to join the Isabelle’s crew – they being in need of a doctor as their last one had died of typhus. With Nelson and his Trafalgar victory, everyone at that time seemed caught up with navy fever, myself included. I found I quite enjoyed life at sea, despite the fact the food is often revolting and I’ve banged my head a few too many times on the deck beams.”

      Emily searched his face. “Do you have no family left in England?”

      “My mother and father still live in Steventon, near Winchester.”

      “And you have no other family?”

      Leander looked down at her young face, damp with sea spray, and the dancing tendrils of her wheat-coloured hair. “I was married once. My wife died delivering me of a son. Two months after burying her, my little boy died. I was their attending doctor, but I could not save their lives.” He watched her dark eyes grow sad and quickly added, “It was a long time ago, Emily.”

      She shifted her gaze away towards the swollen waves that rose up like shapeless beasts to challenge the Isabelle. For several minutes, as if mesmerized by the harsh scene, she said nothing, but when she turned again towards Leander there was a sympathetic smile on her face.

      “The woman you write to – who is she?”

      “How do you know I write to a woman?”

      “I – I am only guessing.”

      He leaned back to stare at her in surprise. “You are an intriguing woman – one who is content to ask questions of others, but avoids answering them about herself.”

      She angled her head. “Are you interested in learning something of me?”

      “Every man on this ship is interested in learning something of you.”

      “Good answer, Doctor! But now we are talking about you. And you were about to tell me the woman’s name.”

      He raised one auburn eyebrow and met her questioning eyes straight on. “Jane. Her name is Jane.”

      “Jane?”

      Leander was certain there was a hint of disappointment in her voice. He could see the next question forming on her lips when Fly Austen blew past their sheltered corner.

      “Leander!” he cried upon discovering his friend. “I would have thought you were snoring soundly in your hammock at this hour.” Then realizing it was Emily sitting with him, he added, “Oh! Good morning, ma’am.”

      “I might have said the same about you, Mr. Austen,” Leander said.

      His dark, wavy hair blowing wildly about, Fly laughed into the wind and reached out to steady himself on the nearest cutter. “I should like nothing better; however, at six bells, James wants to begin questioning the men who were brought on board. I’m on my way below to see how well our guests fared the night.” He looked from one to the other with a wide grin. “And you two are – ?”

      “Out for a breath of fresh air, Mr. Austen,” Emily said quickly. “The hospital, as you can well imagine, is oppressively hot and crowded.”

      Fly still grinned. “And your many patients, Doctor? Who’s attending them?”

      “The ever-capable Mr. Brockley, of course.”

      “Well, then, they’re in very good hands.”

      A furore of voices suddenly pierced the howling wind. Those on watch, having stood silent and hidden at their posts, hastened to the larboard rail to investigate the hubbub at the front of the ship near the bowsprit.

      “Man overboard!”

      “Nay, men overboard!”

      “Heave-to, lads; slow her down.”

      “Throw ’em a barrel, a spar – anything that’ll float.”

      “Can we lower a cutter fer ’em?”

      “Nay, too dangerous in this weather. Heave-to.”

      “It’s